Out of the Abyss
by Ciotolik SpringfieldBluebird
Summary: The A-Team is without a direction after escaping from Fort Bragg and eluding the MPs. Then, there is a problem at the VA and Murdock needs their help. If you like this story, read the sequel, "Faith" by Springfieldbluebird.
1. Chapter 1

Authors' Introduction: Ciotolik and I, Springfieldbluebird, are your authors on this wonderful story. This story can stand alone, but was inspired by two other stories, which you can read or not read, but I'll list them here: "All for One" (A story I helped write under another penname) and "Faith."

You can read the other two later...just don't worry about it, read on and have a good time. Please drop us a note to let us know what you think. We are addicted to comments...they are the food we eat and the air we breathe!

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Chapter 1

"Each new beginning comes from another beginning's end." -Seneca-

Face's hand was still lying on the receiver. The call hadn't lasted more than a few minutes but it felt unexplainably good. He hadn't talked to Hannibal for a long time now and it was kind of reassuring to hear that his voice was still as familiar as it sounded the last time they had been together, leaving the Psychiatric VA where they had checked on Murdock the last time.

He had never thought he was missing him or the other guys before, he just thought that his general discomfort was due to the new situation he had to live in: a future on the run wasn't exactly what he would have dreamed of. It was sure better than being stuck in a jail at Fort Bragg, but freedom had a high price to pay. He could be whoever he wanted to, and he was damn good at it, but at the end of the day who was he really?

When he had left the orphanage, he was sure he wouldn't have felt that way anymore: he joined the Army and he thought it would have made him belong to something for the rest of his life. At the beginning it was just fellowship and complicity with his comrades-in-arms during those years of hard work and training… but then… then there was a war to be faced. And in war, fellowship wasn't enough… fellow soldiers became brothers.

But the closest to family he had ever experienced was when he was placed under Hannibal's command: after a short time with the team, Face could already feel his defensive attitude melting like snow in the spring. The self-confident Commander, his grouchy Sergeant and the eccentric Pilot regularly assigned to the unit seemed to accept him just the way he was, without asking questions. Only sometimes they had asked him what such a "handsome gentleman" –those were Hannibal's exact words – was doing in that muddy hole. He answered that he wanted to bring some "class" to this pitiful corner of the world. Face could remember the guys laughing but he was also sure to have caught something else in his new fellows' eyes. There was some respect in BA's gaze for this slender man who had been tough enough to become a Green Beret. Murdock himself had once said that Face, despite the appearances, was the least vulnerable man of the Unit, thanks to his ability to bend reality to his aims. And then, there was Hannibal… he had immediately understood the potential hidden behind the elegant features of his young Lieutenant. He had believed in him. He had given him the chance to do what he could do best: being the Faceman without ever losing Templeton Peck in the process.

Face had never known what a father was like, but Hannibal had believed in him as a father, and had guided him as a Commander at the same time.

But now…the Faceman couldn't exist without the Team and Templeton Peck…he was nothing more than that little guy at the Guardian Angels' Orphanage. That kid that didn't even know when his birthday was, because the only place where that day existed was on the Birth Certificate that was closed in the Mother Superior's drawer. He got to know when his birthday was only when he had to deliver his papers to the Army, when he was enlisted.

Only a few years later he had the first birthday party of his life. Hannibal, Murdock and BA managed to find a Pandan Honeycomb cake, a Vietnamese treat, and they wrote "Happy Bday Face" using some sugar. Well, maybe it wasn't exactly a party… but sure as hell it was family. Family.

And now? Where was family? Now he was an outlaw… would there ever be a family again? Or will he be forever a guy with no birthday as it was in the orphanage?

The jungle was far away and there was no Pandan Honeycomb Cake here, but Hannibal had called. Self confident as usual, he opened the conversation with a joke, "Aging is a bad thing, Lieutenant, you'd better hurry up and date a few chicks tonight!" Face had immediately recognized the voice and replied laughing to the implicit wishes, "Thank you Colonel!" They talked a few minutes about meaningless things and used some suggested questions and coded messages to make sure that the other two guys were alright: they always tried to keep updated about the others, it was the only way to feel connected, after all. At the end of the conversation, just before saying goodbye, Face hesitated.

"Colonel…"

A few long instances of silence filled with words followed, till Hannibal just answered, "I know, Face. I know."

Nothing else needed to be said. Both men hung up quickly… maybe because every other word would have been unnecessary, or painful, or maybe because a silent lump in their throat stopped any other attempt to talk.

It took Face a few minutes to let the receiver go and step away from the echo of that call.

He stepped back slowly to the couch and took that small origami animal in his hands. It had been pressed in an envelope but, once taken out of it and stretched, it was back its original form. A horse, probably. On one side there was written "happy birthday Friend" and on the other side it was signed "Me". Face smiled… it took him maybe two seconds to understand that those two capital letters "F" and "M", marked and adorned, stood for "Face" and "Murdock". He had missed his friend's smart codes and witty puns. The regular visits Face paid in disguise at the VA weren't enough to enjoy this side of Murdock and the spirit of the Captain seemed to be penned, as well as his body. Murdock had always loved making those origami things, and Face could still remember how he had used it to pass them a coded message in Vietnam. This origami horse (or dog?) was the best present he could have received.

And then there was this other envelope. BA had used to send pictures of the Team to his mom when they were in war… Face had never expected him to send one of these pictures, but here it was. There were the four of them together, with impudent grins on their faces. Well, BA's smile was more similar to a grimace… but that was just the way he was. On the back of the picture there were these words "Happy Birthday – BA", just as simple. Just like BA.

He smiled, with the shadow of a tear in his eyes. They had been his Team. And they would have always been his family. Or maybe not?

"People drift apart all the time…." Face thought and he felt a pang in his stomach.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note:** Ahh, the plot thickens! Oh...what's that you say? You didn't leave any comments yet? It's ok. We will accept your apology in the form of comments for chapter two. ;) Thanks for reading!

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Chapter 2

The phone call had alarmed Face from its very first sentence. "Now I don't want you to worry, but…there's a problem with Captain Murdock." It was the nurse that he had befriended at the VA, Laurie Basden.

"Oh…" Face put on the same favorite grandchild persona he had used when he'd first talked to her. She thought his name was Lieutenant Trevor Peterson, just transferred from Womack Medical Center to the facility nearby in Loma Linda, California. When they had been on the run during their initial flight from Fort Bragg, he'd made contact with her and continued the cover identity by meeting her in person. She had promised to keep him informed of his "friend's" progress, and when he visited, she could see a positive change in her patient, so she continued keeping him informed. She was due for retirement next year, so Face knew he would have to create other contacts.

He tried to put the right amount of worry into his voice. "Oh my goodness. What happened?"

"Well, he had an episode today. He had been asleep, and then we heard yelling from his room. It was a panic attack, possibly, from the way he reacted. Maybe a nightmare that triggered it. No one could get near him. The orderlies grabbed him to keep him still; he was fighting so much. It took 3 men to hold him while Dr. Ellis sedated him."

"What happened to Dr. Richter?" "Trevor" had met Dr. Richter before, and he seemed like a competent psychiatrist.

"Oh, honey. He got transferred last month. Funny thing is, they transferred him to Womack, where you used to be. He didn't want to go, but you know…orders are orders. Maybe he can put in for a transfer back here, one day."

"Right, right." Face tried to sound a lot less worried than he was. He remembered how Murdock hadn't liked to be touched by anyone after…after the torture he'd gone through at Faith. Maybe the shadow of that horrible memory had come back in Murdock's dreams. That was the only possible way he could imagine his friend being violent. When Murdock was himself, he would never have done what the nurse was describing. He had to have been scared to death. He had a right to feel that way after what they'd been through. Memories flashed, too bright and terrible in his mind, as he struggled to push the past aside a moment. "How is Murdock now?"

"He's sleeping right now. I imagine it will be a while before he wakes up. Dr. Ellis…" She paused here and Face could hear a hesitation and an unsatisfied tone in her voice.

"What is it, Miss Laurie?" He asked, pouring on the charm to get the info.

"Oh…nothing. I just … well…between you and me, Trevor…I don't like him." She paused again to think. "I tried to tell him that Captain Murdock would be fine…you just have to give him a few moments, and keep your distance when he's having an outburst. He never hurt anyone when Dr. Richter was here. He had his moments, sure, but Dr. Richter just had a way about him. He could charm a bird down from a tree. But this guy, Ellis. He snaps his fingers and calls over orderlies. They grabbed the Captain and he just lost it. It rattled me, I must admit. I felt terrible for him. They gave him an injection of Perphenazine and Amitriptyline, and it was like turning off a light. Poor man. I thought…I thought you might want to know so that maybe you could come see him in the next few days. I know he always does better when you visit, Trevor."

Face realized he was holding his breath and he let it out in a whoosh. When she described it, he felt like he was there with Murdock, going through whatever horror show his brain had chosen to trap him in this time. He wrote down the two medications the doctor had prescribed, planning to check them out later. "Oh yes, Miss Laurie. I'll come on over there…it's my day off. I'd like to be there when he wakes up, you know. He's become like a brother to me." _You don't know the half of it, Miss Laurie_, he told her in his mind.

"Well, that's good, Trevor. That makes me feel a whole lot better about leaving him. I get off work in about half an hour. He'll do better if he's got someone with him when he wakes."

_So will I_, Face thought. "Oh yes. I'm on my way right now."

* * *

Face had entered through the employee door, flashing Trevor's ID at the guard. Without hesitation, he made his way to Murdock's room. He'd been there several times with Hannibal and knew how to get there and bypass the nurse's desk. He was fairly sure that Nurse Basden had left, but the less people that saw him, the better.

Murdock was lying on the bed, huddled under the blanket and obviously asleep. There were restraints on the bed, but they were not used. When Face came around and saw how deeply Murdock was asleep, he realized there had been no need of strapping him down. This patient wasn't going to hurt anyone.

But the restraints had not been there before, when he and Hannibal had visited while Dr. Richter was in charge. It was unsettling to see the padded wrist and ankle straps that now hung from the bed like dead things.

"Murdock." Face stepped forward and brushed Murdock's unruly dark hair off his forehead. Not being active duty, he wasn't forced to keep his hair military short anymore. It had grown out to make him look even more like a kid. "Murdock, can you wake up for me?"

There was absolutely no reaction. Murdock was sleeping the sleep of the dead. His steady, slow breathing, however let Face know he was still in the land of the living. "Okay…I'm here. You sleep as long as you want, buddy."

He settled into a chair for a moment, overcome with memories. Memories of Vietnam…of what happened to them in Camp Faith. Murdock had always been the most confident, brilliant, sought-after pilot at their base. He'd flown so many successful sorties that every unit wanted him. Then, somehow, Hannibal, with his many connections, had stolen him out from under Decker. Face smiled slightly, remembering how Murdock had followed Hannibal around the first day, gratefully saying "Thank you for rescuing me from Colonel Decker, sir." No one anywhere on the base wanted to work for the dour Colonel.

Murdock had been a perfect member for the team. He'd saved their lives on more missions than he, Face, could count. He'd saved BA's life at Camp Faith in what was probably the most selfless act of heroism that Face had seen anyone ever perform. What they'd been through had bonded them together closer than family. Or were they? Face found himself wondering if maybe it was just himself who felt such a deep connection and sense of loss. Maybe he'd deluded himself.

He tried to push the questioning thoughts away and focus back on his objective. Murdock might not wake up at all today. Was he going to stay in here all night? Would he leave Murdock alone? There was no way he could do that. Could he take Murdock with him? He thought over this possibility for a moment. Breaking him out of the VA wouldn't be too difficult. It was late, there were less nurses on staff…the darkness would shield them from people who wanted to look too closely. He could swipe Murdock's file and forge any prescriptions that the pilot would need.

He began putting the pieces of the plan in place. He would need some scrubs, easily found in any supply closet around here. Nurse Basden said she was getting off work at 7:00 PM and it was now 8:10 PM, so she wouldn't be a problem.

He left the room as quietly as possible, after checking the hallway for activity. It was all clear.

He returned a half hour later with all he needed. He'd changed clothes, dumping his own in the trash on a janitor's cart. The white scrubs made him appear as an orderly, which was just perfect. He'd swiped an orderly's ID from a locker in a dressing room. It wouldn't do at close examination, but from far away, it would be just fine. He hung it on his front pocket, and the effect was perfect. No one would look twice.

Walking past the Nurse's station, he'd seen something incredibly fortuitous. Apparently they'd all stepped out for a coffee break or something, because there was only one nurse on duty. She never even turned from her chair where she was reading a particularly large book, probably a textbook, as Face slipped behind the desk and daringly filched Murdock's file, which was first in the pile of active patients.

He had some reading of his own to do.

* * *

When he returned to Murdock's room, there was no change. Face stashed the file and went back out. He returned with a wheelchair, which he placed in the corner until they needed it.

He came back around the bed to kneel beside Murdock. He really needed to gauge his friend's state before he took the chance of wheeling him out of here. It wouldn't do if he suddenly darted up, afraid of where he was and who he was with when Face was trying to sneak him out of the front door.

"Murdock. Please. Can you open your eyes for me?"

There was a sleepy mumble. Face placed a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently. "It's me, Murdock. I need you to wake up. C'mon, buddy."

Murdock's eyes opened slowly. His expression was blank for long moments, and Face felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. "I heard that things weren't going so well, here." Face said softly.

Murdock's voice was hoarse as he spoke. "Is BA…do you think … the Colonel will find…him?" Murdock's eyes showed worry and desperation.

Face was instantly transported back to the moment in Vietnam that Murdock was remembering… He would never forget how he and Murdock had kept a lonely, anxious vigil, waiting for that last Huey to come in. When they'd been rescued, Hannibal had stayed behind to find BA, who had become separated from the rest of the team. Face had gone with Murdock because…well…Murdock had gone a little _dinky dai_ in Faith. The torture sessions of the VC had not cracked his spirit, but they had driven his mind somewhere that no one could reach. Sometimes Face still saw shades of that dark place in Murdock. Hearing the words that Murdock had not been able to say back then made the memories come back as if there had been no time at all between then and the present.

The thunder and lightning had rumbled and struck as they watched the runway for BA and Hannibal. After silently refusing to be treated by the medics, Murdock had gone to stand silently by the hangar door. Watching and waiting. Face had smoothed it over with the medical officers by explaining the situation, and Murdock's mental state. Then, he had gone silently to join the pilot and they both held their breath, squinting through the driving rain. The soldiers hadn't pushed it with Murdock, accepting Face's explanation. Once he turned, he had heard the soft notes of compassion and respect in their whispered comments to each other.

It caused another swift pang of sadness to squeeze his heart. He got his breath back and whispered, "Murdock, it's okay now. Everyone's home safe. We made it back." He leaned down, almost touching Murdock's forehead with his own. Murdock's eyes focused as Face spoke, and they shared a long look, saying nothing but saying everything at the same time.

The pilot brought his hand up to rub his eyes, as if he were trying to see more clearly, and it was then that Face saw the ugly, dark bruises on Murdock's forearm. Apparently it had been quite a struggle and the orderlies had been rougher than they probably needed to be. Murdock could be loud and manic sometimes, but he wouldn't hurt anyone. Unless they grabbed at him. He remembered how Murdock had pulled away from the medics that had tried to treat him at the hangar that terrible night. The idea that someone would lay their hands on his friend hard enough to cause bruises made Face angry. Murdock's wounds were not on the outside anymore, they were inside, where they couldn't be seen, but he was just as wounded as any veteran and deserved to be treated with care. With a monumental effort, he pushed those thoughts away. Time for them later.

"Do you wanna get out of here?" Face asked, placing a hand on Murdock's shoulder again to pull his attention back to the present.

"Yeah, Face..." He groaned and tried to force his eyes open again. "This place…has terrible room…service."

"At least your sense of humor's ok. C'mon, let's get you outa here."


	3. Chapter 3

Authors' note: The only thing we get for writing this is your comments, so please drop us a line. :) To those who have commented already...thanks so much!

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3

"You often meet your fate on the road you take to avoid it." -French proverb

The sun was pretty warm, and it was only 10 A.M.. Hannibal stood up on the roof where he had been placing shingles and stretched his back. This was definitely a younger man's job and he was getting older, whether he wanted to admit it or not. Those thoughts annoyed his mind as he gazed over the worksite at Mammoth Pictures.

Creating the appearance of a Wild West town definitely took a large construction crew. There were several framers working over at what would become the saloon and another crew was hanging drywall in the hotel. Hannibal's crew was working on the roof of the jail, and they were ahead of schedule, which was good because the picture was due to start next week. They were a pretty good crew; one was a kid working between graduating from high school and going to college and the other was a Hispanic man from downtown LA. The kid was inexperienced, but he learned fast, reminding Hannibal a lot of Face when they'd first met. The other man, Santiago, was an old hand at this, and so, working altogether, the job had moved quickly along.

He hung his hammer on his tool belt, then climbed down expertly from the roof, and got a drink of water from the cooler under a large oak tree. The team of tilers were sitting nearby under the tree. Their group was mostly made up of young, overconfident bullies. Soon after Hannibal had been hired, he'd run into them when they'd tried to hassle Santiago. They felt that a Mexican shouldn't be taking good "American jobs" away from them; never mind the fact that Santiago had been born in LA and so was a native U.S. citizen.

Hannibal had gone for the largest one right away, usually his style, and laid him out with a single punch that connected with the jaw. Then he'd turned to the other two with a large smile. "How about it? Any of you gorillas wanna go a round with the champ?" He knew then that they'd seen it. The look of something dangerous in his eyes. The jazz had made them leave; they didn't even stoop to drag their unconscious friend away; they just left him bleeding in the dirt.

It had been stupid; he knew he could have gotten arrested and drawn the attention of the MP's, but it had been the right thing to do. Sometimes a thing could be both stupid and right at the same time. He heard the muttering from the group under the tree and watched with satisfaction as they got up and moved back to their work. No one else had encountered any trouble with them since the day Hannibal had cold-cocked the biggest behind the saloon, and that felt pretty good.

Not knowing how everything had been about to turn out during the fight had felt good as well. Too good. It was balancing on a knife edge…it was waiting for the unexpected…it was the jazz. He had missed it. All of a sudden, the thought brought back the memory of his team and he had to harden his sun-tanned face to hide the swift emotion that swept over him.

He imagined that making the transition back to everyday, civilian life was the hardest on him. After all, he'd been in the military the longest out of the four of them. He could hardly remember what his life was like before he joined up. He'd gone, as a young soldier, to Korea and gained rank, experience, and training. He remembered those days with a wry smile. He'd been full of piss and vinegar, thinking he could never lose. And it had seemed to be true.

Then Vietnam. His A-Team. Every mission, it had seemed as if they worked together—all of them- like parts of the same whole. Knowing each other's thoughts effortlessly. It was a hard thing to give up. Regular life was pale when compared to life with his men.

Again, that was his problem, not theirs. He was certain that they would be just fine. He knew adjusting back to civilian life had been welcomed by Face and BA. After escaping from Fort Bragg, they had all talked about what they'd enjoy best about being out of the Army. Even Murdock seemed okay where he was. He had every cute nurse wrapped around his finger, for certain. Even though he was being well-taken care of, Hannibal still made it his business to check on his pilot. If one of his men needed him, he would never desert them—he was determined to see Murdock through.

He tossed the paper cup he'd been using into the nearby wastebasket and then began to climb the ladder again to return to the roof. He shook his head, still feeling that sense of responsibility to his teammates. What was he, if not their leader? How did someone just let go of that kind of responsibility? He was at a loss, and it was an alien feeling that set him on edge. Give them a chance to try and have some kind of life, even though they were on the run. He grabbed his hammer and got back to work, driving nails into shingles with a single blow.

It was going to be a lonely road towards figuring out his place in this new world, and he was going to have to travel it alone.

The thoughts still burdened his mind as he drove back his small efficiency apartment above a Chinese laundromat. He waved at the old gentleman that ran the place; the elderly Mr. Lee was sitting in the small office, counting quarters as Hannibal passed through to the stairway that led upstairs.

He had just showered and was getting dressed again when the phone rang. It was probably only the third time the phone had rang in the whole time he'd been living here. He lifted the receiver on the powder blue phone and listened, waiting for the other person to speak first.

It was Face. "Hello? Colonel?" From the tension in his voice, Hannibal knew something was wrong.

"It's me. What's happened?"

"There was a problem with our friend at the VA. My nurse contact called me. Um…I stole him from the VA." They didn't use names according to the plan they'd set in place.

Hannibal's eyes widened in surprise, but he couldn't help the smile that touched his lips. "You did what?"

"He's here. With me. There's a new Doctor at the VA. I'm not sure exactly what happened, but Colonel…if you'd seen him…" The note of worry in Face's voice was real.

"If I had seen him, I probably would have done the same thing Lieutenant." Hannibal knew that Face had done what was necessary and didn't second guess him for a moment.

"I brought his file home. I should go to the pharmacy soon. He's going to need his meds. I don't wanna be gone to the pharmacy and he wake up alone."

"Just hold on. I'm on my way."

* * *

Hannibal pulled into Face's driveway. There had been a light storm earlier, but the rain had passed and now a light wind blew off of the water. The glow of the newly risen moon shone across the dunes and made it easy to see his way to the door.

He knocked, and was met in a moment with his Lieutenant's anxious face. "Come in."

"Nice to see you, kid." He patted Face's shoulder as he entered the dwelling. "How's our patient doing?"

"Still sleeping. I only got him as far as the couch." Face gestured to the light blue sofa, where a sleeping Murdock was curled into some pillows and a crocheted blanket.

Hannibal nodded. "Has he woken up at all since you got him here?"

Face shook his head. "I looked up those medications that Nurse Laurie said they gave him, and he should be out at least another hour. Like I said earlier, I don't wanna be gone to the pharmacy and have him wake up alone."

Hannibal nodded again. "Swiping that file was a good idea. It looks like we're going to have to keep a better eye on our pilot's welfare." His blue eyes cut to Murdock and then back to Face. "Get what you need for him. When you get back, we'll figure out what's going on and what we need to do about it."

"Okay, Hannibal." Face grabbed his wallet and keys and was gone.

Hannibal sat on the smaller couch in front of the window and kicked his feet up on the coffee table to wait. Face was worried he'd done the wrong thing, but Hannibal had reassured him during the phone call that he would have done no less himself. From his position, he could see the bruises on Murdock's arm that Face had mentioned. The very idea angered him. They all knew that Murdock was crazy, but he wasn't dangerous.

Even though he appeared better, Hannibal and the rest of the team had known that Murdock was still shaken up. His nightmares left him screaming if he forgot his medication, but his performance on the job didn't suffer one bit. Murdock had promised Hannibal as much, when he'd been allowed to fly once more. At first, he'd refused to get Murdock cleared for active duty again and suggested that he take time to rest and heal completely in spirit as well as body.

He still remembered Murdock's response even today. The pilot had grabbed him by the shirt. "Colonel. If I don't get back up there...I am gonna really go crazy. I gotta fly." He'd held Hannibal's gaze for long moments, then realized what he was doing and let his shirt go. He smoothed it back down as he stepped back; he seemed shocked by his own reaction. "I gotta fly." He'd softened his voice. "I'm a pilot. If I don't fly...there won't be anything left for me..."

Hannibal had understood. What were they, if not the soldiers that the military had made them? What was left if you took that away from them? It was why he had brought Murdock back with the team; however, he had promised himself to keep a very close eye on the pilot. Murdock had been steady; his occasional difficulties had never been enough to stop him from flying. After the bank job, the pilot had kept it together in order to try and break them out of Fort Bragg. Failing at that had been stressful for him, intensified because Lynch had tried to break the pilot by telling him that they had been killed in a car accident. Murdock hadn't handled that very well at all.

If he ever had a chance to see Lynch, he would pay that back with interest.

He glanced again at Murdock and found the pilot watching him silently. The quietness was eerie for a moment, reminding Hannibal of Murdock's time at Faith. "Captain?" He said softly, getting up to come over and perch near Murdock on the edge of the overstuffed blue sofa.

"Where am I?" Murdock spoke in a hoarse voice. He looked around, obviously confused.

"You're at Face's, Murdock. There was a…problem at the VA." Hannibal tried to gauge his pilot's reaction. There was a glazed look in Murdock's eyes and his manner and speech were slowed.

"I feel like I did after that birthday party y'all threw me right before we left _Cam Ranh_."

Hannibal smiled as the memory returned. The party had been Face's idea. They'd gone out and hit some of the local bars and spent most of the night drinking _bac si de,_ a local rice whiskey. BA had gone with them to keep an eye on the three of them. By the end of the night, neither Face nor Murdock had their wits about them enough to get back to the base, so he and BA had shepherded them home. Hannibal hadn't been feeling that great the next day either, as he remembered, but Face and Murdock had been worse off by far.

"BA warned us that local hooch was strong." Hannibal said.

Murdock tried to sit up, but gave up and settled back against the sofa with a heavy sigh. As he looked at Hannibal, a small gleam came to his eye, a flash of his old self returning for a brief moment. "You know why BA doesn't drink anymore, don't you? Remember that mama san that cleaned Ray's hooch once a week and washed his laundry?"

"Yeah." Hannibal nodded.

"She and BA sat up one night drinking some of that homemade stuff. She'd made it in her kitchen." Murdock began to smile as he remembered. "Next day…he was so sick he swore off the stuff forever. She drank him under the table."

Hannibal had to admit it was pretty funny. He laughed for a moment, then Murdock's smile faded and the pilot became serious. "Hannibal, what did I do? I can't remember. I mean…why did Face bring me here? I mean, we both know I'm one twist short of a Slinky, but did I do anything uh…you know?" Even though he was making a joke about it, Hannibal knew that Murdock was anxious about what he apparently couldn't remember.

He placed a hand on Murdock's shoulder. "No. I'm not sure of all the details, but it looks like they gave you worse than they got. You don't remember anything?"

The Captain let out a sigh. "Not much." He had a faint memory of someone holding him down and the feeling that he could no longer breathe; he'd been terrified and trying to fight his way free. He wasn't sure if the memory was from the VA or from an earlier time in Vietnam. He shook his head. "It's all jumbled. I'm confused."

"Don't worry. Face is picking up a few things for you at the store, then we're gonna figure all this out together. Nobody died, if that's what you're wondering." The relief in Murdock's eyes said that Hannibal had hit it on the nose. "Now close your eyes and sleep a little more before Face gets here. I'm not leaving you."

Murdock closed his eyes and sighed. "Whatever they gave me was like a hammer."

"I know." Hannibal patted him on the shoulder. "Get some sleep, kid."

"Yes, sir." Murdock mumbled. In moments, he was back asleep.

* * *

After Face had come back from the pharmacy, he spent a few hours with Hannibal in a strange mood he couldn't decode himself.

They were both very worried for Murdock but there was an annoying bug in their minds that kept suggesting that there was more than a new breakdown in their friend's situation. It was painful to listen to the echoes of war, to smell the memory of that VC camp, to explore every second of a future with no future… a future on the run, in which the only purpose could be trying to protect each other from that dark emptiness in which Murdock seemed to be sinking.

Hannibal and Face sat in silence for long moments: after sharing what needed to be shared, they were talking with their own thoughts, but, as well as it happened during the long hours spent in the jungle, they also had the feeling that just being close to each other could mean sharing the burden.

Hannibal's presence was very comforting… he was still their Commander after all, and, as everyone knows, a commander always knows what needs to be done… even when he doesn't know it at all!

That was sure a huge responsibility for the Colonel, who was now wishing that the paramedic training he had received in the Green Berets would have been less focused on physical wounds and more on emotional ones: they bled inside and it could be even more dangerous.

"Well, Colonel, there's a guest room at the end of the corridor, you can sleep there if you like… "

"No worries, Face, I don't think it's a good idea to let Murdock spend his night all alone right now… Go and get some rest, I'll stay here for a while."

" There are two beds in my room… I thought we might take him there and I'll be with him the whole night, what do you say?"

" Yeah, that's great Lieutenant… let's see if our Captain takes a walk with us, huh?"

Face gently touched Murdock's shoulder, making sure not to shake it, and talked slowly and reassuringly to take Murdock back from where he was, without being too sudden.

Murdock's eyes seemed more clean now, as if a foggy shade had faded, and he followed Face in an obedient way that was a little too sad to be considered simple cooperation.

While the Captain changed into the pajamas Face had lent him, Hannibal grabbed the Lieutenant's arm, before heading to the door.

"Murdock isn't the only one who has had to deal with his nightmares lately, ain't that true Face? Are you sure you can handle it?"

"I can Colonel, don't worry."

"I'm only one room away… " Hannibal continued, staring with his blue eyes into Face's brown ones.

"I know. You have always been there. Always."

Hannibal smiled and left the room, while Murdock lay down on the bed and Face passed his hand through his hair.

* * *

Murdock felt the sleepiness leaving him gradually... a part of him didn't want to let it go, since it was a protective blanket that could defend him from facing that never ending feeling of oppression, of helplessness, of disorientation. He had never lost the impression that he was walking in the nowhere, and he had to go somewhere to save himself, but there was no aim, no path, no escape… he was condemned to die in that emptiness, so full of anguish that he felt almost claustrophobic.

The new meds he had been given could knock him out for a while, but when he came back he had the feeling to have lost a little bit of himself every time. He couldn't say exactly what was lost… not only his memory, or even his control - it was unbearable to him just to imagine he could do things he couldn't remember when drugged… he was losing something else, too. Maybe his intelligence, or his desire to live… or perhaps it was his identity… his fear, his joy, his taste, his love, his passion, his anger, his life. He was losing his life.

The whirlwind of emotions flowed through him, making him feel even more dizzy and alienated on top of what he'd already been through in the hospital.

Murdock turned himself to one side and saw Face in the half-darkness: he was sitting on the bed… holding something in his hands. A card maybe. No, probably it was a picture.

Murdock heard him mumbling something but he wasn't sure if the voice came from Face or from his own head.

No, it was Face talking… but the words were indistinct.

Murdock tried to listen more carefully: for the first time in so long he had been able to focus on something, he was really interested in something happening in the real world.

"_Look to this day, _

_For yesterday is but dream_

_and tomorrow is but a vision." _

There was a pause here.

"_But today well lived _

_makes every yesterday a dream of happiness"_

Face's voice trailed off and trembled.

_"And every tomorrow a vision of hope_."

For the first time in ages Murdock felt his eyes stinging, and he remembered he could feel again. He slowly got up and the vertigo he felt punched him directly in his stomach. He saw black in front of his eyes, so he stopped for a moment, and then, slowly, he managed to get to his feet.

Face noticed him when he was almost standing and he reached out quickly for him.

Murdock didn't catch his hand, but put a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Murdock...I sure didn't want to wake you up," Face wiped a tear from his eyes and tried to steady his voice.

"What was it, Face?"

"Ah, nothing... just something the sisters at the orphanage made me repeat when I was a little… yes… I mean… when I felt…"

"Lonely?" Murdock interrupted.

"I'm glad you're here Murdock". Face found himself saying.

"Thank you, Face."

"For what?"

"For having _woken me up_."

Both knew there was more than the obvious in Murdock's words.


	4. Chapter 4

**Authors' note:** We are hoping you are enjoying this story and if you are, reviewing it for us would be fabulous! Please, please, please?

* * *

**Chapter 4**

BA eyed himself in the small mirror of the tiny bathroom. His new hairstyle looked good. It was threatening, and would be enough to throw off anyone who wanted to take a deeper look. He ran his hand over the Mohawk, and was pleased with the way it stood up defiantly. Not only a symbol of his heritage, the Mohawk was a symbol of the new path he was traveling in the world. His deep brown eyes weighed his new look approvingly.

He'd come a long way from that tough, scruffy, always-trying-to-prove-himself boy from Chicago. He was tougher than he'd been back then and a lot wiser about how things worked in the world. And things didn't always work out well. It had been, and still was, a painful lesson.

He grabbed the denim blue workshirt from the hook on the back of the door and pulled it on. Things were as good as they could be, he supposed. His unit wasn't in some cell back at Bragg, and they weren't smashing rocks on a chain gang or waiting for execution. Still, he had to admit that it bothered him—this idea of being on the run from the law. It went against the values he'd been taught.

He stepped out from the bathroom and into the small room that he rented at the hotel. It was a no-frills place, and that was the way he liked it. The winos in the lobby were too drunk to ask questions and the desk clerk was too bored to take notice of much more than the reruns shown on a small black and white TV that sat on the counter. He had the feeling Face would approve of his choice to stay under the radar, even though he might not care for the accommodations. BA didn't mind. He liked things simple.

The drive to Judge's Garage didn't take long. He frowned, listening to the tapping sound in the motor; the van was acting up again. They'd picked it up a few months ago on the East Coast during their escape from Bragg; it had been driven too far and too hard and keeping it going was getting a bit harder without an engine rebuild. Anthony "Judge" Wallace, his new boss, had offered to help him with that in what spare time he had. BA smirked as he thought about the irony of the whole thing. Supposedly, he and his team had robbed the Bank of Hanoi for a million dollars, but he didn't have enough cash to work on his van.

Thinking on his new boss, BA had to admit he liked Judge-an ex-biker, a gearhead with 10W30 in his blood. They spoke the common language of motors and tools, and, even better, Wallace understood that sometimes a man had to lay low. In such a case, his boss knew not to ask questions.

BA parked the van beside the garage building and went in.

"Hey, man! What's up with that!" Judge came around from under the hood of a '59 Ford Galaxie, his eyes fixed on BA's hair. "Lookin' good."

"Nah, man, this hairstyle's all mine. You can't have it." BA chuckled.

"Alright, kid. Fair enough. Help me take a look at this carburetor. I think it needs to be rebuilt." Wallace was quite a few years older than BA and somehow reminded him of Hannibal. Especially when he called BA kid. It made him sad for old times, and he tried to push the thought away.

"This is the one you were telling me about with a little rust in the tank?"

"Yeah. Donald changed out the tank yesterday. We found a replacement in that junkyard over in Chino. Think you can get it runnin' today?"

"Yeah, I got this." BA said, grabbing the tools to remove the part.

"Thanks, man. This dude wants his car by tomorrow. I got this veteran's bike to work on and Donald's kid is sick, so it's just you and me today."

"Yeah, no problem." BA nodded, glancing over to see the '64 BSA, a pretty rare bike, rolled into the corner where Wallace usually worked.

The rest of the afternoon went pretty quietly. As they worked, BA listened to Wallace tell his stories about being a paratrooper in World War 2. It was difficult to listen and not respond with stories of his own, but he knew he couldn't. He couldn't be that person anymore, and he knew why. But if he wasn't Special Forces Sergeant Baracus, who was he?

As he wiped the pieces of the carburetor clean, he thought about how Hannibal used to talk about his experiences in Korea. He'd learned a lot from the colonel about how to be a good soldier and a better man and he missed that. He wanted to call, but held back. Hannibal had been clear that they were to lay low and do nothing to draw attention to themselves.

When Judge stepped out for lunch, BA was just fitting the carburetor back together when he heard a sound from behind him. His hand grasped the tire iron on the wall and he whipped around with it to face whoever had tried to sneak up on him.

"Nice hair, Sergeant." It was Hannibal.

BA sighed in relief. "I almost knocked you out."

"Glad for those quick reflexes, then." Hannibal was smiling. He was dressed in a nondescript t-shirt that bore an "I love California" logo, dark sunglasses and a worn pair of jeans. Cowboy boots topped off the outfit. It made him shake his head and smile. He had no idea how Hannibal could take a simple outfit and turn into a completely different person.

"What are you doin' here?" BA suddenly felt the skin prickle on the back of his neck. Had Face been captured by the MP's? What about Murdock? Was something wrong at the VA? The happiness at seeing Hannibal faded as all the worries closed in on him.

"Everything's ok." Hannibal saw the rising tension on BA's features. "We just need to meet tonight."

BA nodded. "Something's goin' on, though."

"Yeah. A little problem with Murdock at the VA. He's at Face's now and he's ok. We just…we all need to talk."

"Where we gonna meet?"

"72 Seashell Lane. Off Highway 1 out past Santa Monica."

BA repeated the directions to himself. Upon getting to California and settling in Los Angeles, he'd made it a point to know every side street and highway around. It would help if he ever had to dodge a pursuit or get out of town without being noticed.

"I can be there around six. That ok?"

"Sounds great. We'll rustle up some grub and then discuss…the issues at hand." Hannibal turned to go, but paused with a teasing smile on his face. "Hey, BA. I'll make sure they have some _bac si de_ for you."

There was a short pause as BA realized he'd been ratted out. "Murdock! That crazy fool." He shook his head.

"See ya at six." Hannibal gave BA another of his big smiles. BA was left staring, bewildered, at the place his commander had been standing.

It had almost seemed like the Colonel was on the jazz.

* * *

When Murdock woke up, he could tell it was almost lunchtime.

The sun was high and even though his confused dreams and thoughts were all mixed up with reality, he was absolutely sure of the moment he shared with Face during the night. He could also remember having heard an engine started early in the morning: it was surely Hannibal, since Face was snoring next to him. Probably the Colonel was back, though, since he could hear some noises coming from the kitchen.

Murdock felt his head so heavy… as if it was filled by a huge and hefty emptiness.

For long months, at the VA, he had been almost kicked out of the bed in the morning by an attendant, so he could take his medications and join the other patients in the daily routine. It was such an effort to get out of the bed in the morning… not just because of the sleepless or restless night, but also for the huge darkness that seemed to wait for him during the day. There seemed to be no purpose in living the day, but the idea of getting back to sleep.

Today something was different. In fact, when he woke up between his own nightmares during the night, he had remembered Face's voice saying "I'm glad you're here." There had been a purpose for him to be there.

Without anyone forcing him to leave the emotional shelter of his blankets, Murdock slipped out of his bed and into his clothes, trying to be quiet, in order not to wake up Face, who seemed to be still sleeping tight. He walked out of the room and found Hannibal in the kitchen.

"Good morning, Captain!" the Colonel smiled. "Some eggs? I'm not sure whether it is breakfast or lunch but…it won't make a difference right?"

Murdock passed his hands on his own face, "Thanks Colonel, but I'm not hungry."

"C'mon, you need to eat something, huh? It's not too good to have your meds with an empty stomach, is it?" Hannibal's voice was kind and almost paternal, but there was always that tone in his words that reminded his men there was no way to say no.

Murdock poured some water in a glass and drank it with the same shaky need Hannibal recognized from the VC camp they had been imprisoned in. During Murdock's time alone in VA custody, Hannibal could imagine how he felt convicted and even threatened…especially when Lynch had questioned him. Through all that, the team hadn't been with him. Hannibal hadn't been with him. His man, a member of his unit, had been alone, without backup. His tensed jaw hurt at the mere thought, and the eggs in the pan were starting to smell a little overdone.

Hannibal immediately came back to the present and slid them onto two dishes, placing one of them in front of Murdock's eyes, while the Pilot was absently staring at the half empty glass of water in front of him on the table. He didn't seem to notice the dish coming, and simply kept staring.

Hannibal watched him for a couple of seconds, then he added, "Your eggs, Captain."

"Oh thanks Colonel, I'm sorry... I was just… thinking…"

That seemed a good moment to talk, so Hannibal sat in front of Murdock and, almost casually, he asked, "What are you thinking about?"

"Oh nothing… nothing… probably it's just nothing…" Murdock shook his head using his fork to prick the egg in front of him.

"Murdock, you know there is nothing you can't tell me. There have to be no loose ends before getting out to a mission… you are no cherry, Captain, you know this is the way we work." Hannibal added, being sure that a familiar military tone would be reassuring for both of them.

"We have no more missions Colonel," Murdock answered sadly.

"Our mission is life now, Murdock". Hannibal's voice here was solemn and the other man lifted his warm brown eyes as he felt an intense revelation.

"Colonel… I'm worried…"

"Is it anything at the VA?"

"No. I mean… life there isn't a piece of cake… but it's not what I'm really worried about."

"So tell me Murdock," Hannibal's stare was really puzzled now.

"I'm worried about Faceman. He is suffering from being alone…again." Hannibal watched his wrecked Captain in amazement. His pilot, with so much on his mind, and with blue halos under his eyes, seemed more concerned about his friend than about himself.

"I mean, we are all… we are...I also feel…"

"But I'm supposed to be crazy, ain't I? Crazy people are meant to be alone…. For Face it's different…he isn't like…me." Murdock continued, matter of factly.

Hannibal stood up, got closer to Murdock and sat on the table with one hip, in order to look his friend directly in the eyes. He placed a hand on his shoulder and he sighed in relief when he didn't feel Murdock flinch away.

"Now you listen to me, Captain. We are all different, and this is why there are no differences.

"The fate makes us walk dangerous paths inside and outside ourselves… but the most important thing to remember is that we have always our friends watching our back and marching behind us. This is what family…our team… is about."

Murdock felt himself smiling inside, even if his face didn't move, and Hannibal raised his eyes, spotting Face, who was standing right behind the open door.

He had never heard the word "_family_" before… not referring to himself anyway.

For the first time, the Lieutenant didn't even try to hide his teary eyes. There was nothing to be ashamed of. Not in that moment. There was nothing more courageous than being vulnerable.


End file.
